


Abandon All Hope

by jinxedragon



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxedragon/pseuds/jinxedragon
Summary: Abandon's start to a new reality.





	Abandon All Hope

The world can be strange in many ways. Twisting, turning, tying itself into knots that connect to other strings of existence. Like now. Where the fabric of this world has been torn asunder, opening to planes far beyond the understanding of this one.

The air crackles with a life of its own, winds howling against the glowing red abrasion that’s been torn into the air. Hooded figures spread their arms before it, chanting and calling forth into the unknown. Amongst them, a tall figure stands in the center. Preparing to lead the ritual to its completion. 

“It’s sad you thought you could stop me,” his voice is guttural and hoarse as he addresses the bodies that lie scattered on the ground. Blood pooling into the dirt around them; even as most still breathe. _It’s such a waste_ , he thinks, _that they could not truly bare witness to this victory_. 

_A shared victory that they themselves have had a part in. Though many of them will never know._

He turns and steps forward, hood falling back to reveal a haggard old man with eyes that speak of ancients far older than himself. He moves past the servants, Their arms raised in worship of something beyond them. Past the bodies that lie drained of blood, their sacrifice fueling the heart of the ritual. Keeping it from wavering.

Past the bodies of the adventures that had thought they could stop him. The paladin sticks out the most from all of them. An ax protruding from their head reflects the events that continue around their still form. And shows his final approach and destination to the one he needs.

_Such a pity. Such a waste._

There’s living amongst those who lie dead, stirring and trying to rise back to their feet. A useless endeavor as their hands slip from under them, their strength continuing to give out. They had never stood a chance. _Just as he had planned_.

The one he wants lies still, body twisted at an odd angle that leaves their legs sideways and their chest and face staring towards the dimming stars. He almost fears they might be dead but then he sees the uneven rise and fall of their chest. The Tiefling stares blankly at the sky with distinct red eyes akin to that of a dragon’s. His long bloody black hair sticks to pale skin patched with red scales and a beard that hides any trace of his true age.

Such a strange creature to look so human and yet his blood is filled with that of beings far greater.

 _A pity that one of his horns is missing,_ the man thinks as he tilts the Teifling’s head with his foot examining the spot of the missing horn. An ugly red scar that smooths away any previous protrusion. Most likely ripped and burned from his head long ago.

“Abandon.” the man stops his foot, keeping it in place on the Teifling’s head. A frown on his lips. “Such a sad name you’ve chosen.” He tilts his head as the Tiefling bares his fangs in response, too weak to do anything else. “But not an inaccurate one at least.”

The man then smiles, stepping back as he signals his servants forward, “Grab him. He’s the last piece we needed that our friends here so nicely provided.”

The Tiefling doesn’t fight back as he is liftedup by his arms. The servant’s claws digging into his skin as he’s dragged forward and towards the portal. He doesn’t feel the pain anymore, doesn’t even really want to think anymore. Some part of him knows he should be panicking but he doesn’t have the strength to do it.

A single thought plays through his head though. Whispering that he should have just stayed in his self-imposed solitude. Where everything was nice and quiet. No war, no strange portals, no danger, no one there to let him down or hurt him again.

_He can almost remember what his forest smelt like. Fresh earth mixed with honey and flowers._

There’s no trace of that here. Just the smell of a storm and that of the dead and rotting.

He should have died in his home. In peace. _Not here_. Not amongst people he never bothered to learn the names of. These fucking assholes had dragged him into this mess and now none of them could get him out of it.

_None of them could get themselves out of it either._

He stumbles, falling forward out of his captor’s grasps. Their claws scraping against skin and scale as he lands on his knees. Right in front of the dwarven paladin that stares at him with lifeless eyes.

 _It shouldn’t hurt like it does._ He had tried so hard not to care for any of them and yet he can’t help but remember just a few nights ago. When the warmth of the tavern had felt a little like home and the sound of his companion’s chatter was more comforting than grating.

He remembers the Paladin’s laughter. Loud and boisterous as their eyes crinkled happily at something he had said. They had filled everything around them with a feeling of comradery he had never wanted to understand.

The rage slowly builds back into a fire as he sits helplessly. Wondering how he could have saved them. _If he had cared would it have made a difference?_

No. It wouldn’t have.

And for some reason that makes his anger burn brighter. It clears his head, makes everything come back into focus. Until he swallows down the rage with an effort of learned patience.

His rage is the reason he’s in this state in the first place. Rage that had lead to sloppy fighting, sloppy attacks. It’ll lead to defeat for someone like him who relies on his dexterity to protect him.

 _Patience_. A woman’s voice whispers in his head. The elvish accented common unmistakable after three years of hearing it.

The cleric is still alive then. Feigning death and waiting for a chance to bring back whoever she can. The last chance to set things right and stop Osmodious once and for all.

His captors drag him up again, harsh words spoken in a language he can’t understand. Pulling him closer to the center of the ritual and the portal. Osmodious stepping up from behind him, moving back to his position in the center. Wearing a smile that causes a sense of disgust to crawl against Abandon’s skin.

 _He thinks he’s won… not yet though. Not while I still breathe_. He never wanted to be here but he may as well do his part. Maybe then he can finally go home. Finally have his peace back.

“Your blood is the final piece,” Osmodious pulls a knife from his cloak, turning it carefully in his hands, “A mix of fiend and draconic-”

“And human… maybe some elf.” Abandon coughs out a laugh, tasting the blood on his teeth. “Heh, never really bothered to ask.”

Osmodious glares at him for his interruption, hand tightening around the hilt of the dagger but Abandon is too tired to care about this man’s threats. It won’t matter in the end if all goes as planned.

 _And even if it doesn’t_ he’d never give this man the satisfaction of fear.

His tail twitches in anticipation, waiting without notice next to the ankles of the captor on his right. Just a bit longer. _Hopefully at least._

“Could also have some dwarvish,” he tilts his head up looking towards the clouded night sky and the rain that’s now begun to fall. Harsh and cold; carrying with it a deathly chill. “Hard to really tell but it would explain the beard, right?” He smiles with his fangs bared in a challenge. Daring the man to make the first move.

Osmodious almost seems to growl inhumanely as he grips Abandon’s chin, “Be silent or you’re tongue will be the first to go.“ His fingernails digging into Abandon’s skin causing him to wince in pain. 

He should shut up. Should stop talking. But he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut and apparently 15 years of talking only to himself has made that particular problem much worse. “Technically, the horn already went first.”

The knife is fast but not as fast as the elvish woman who stands from afar. Armor dented and coated in a fresh sheen of blood, red hair flowing upwards as she speaks a prayer. Giving her wishes life with a burst of golden energy that burns away the blood. Leaving her armor a pristine white as the energy sweeps forth from her and towards her allies.

It hits him just in time. Taking mere seconds for his wounds to stitch together and bones to crack back into place. Renewed energy coursing through him to give him enough of a chance to dodge the knife. He pushes back, tail wrapping around his right captor’s ankle and pulling the hooded figure off-balance enough to send them to the ground behind him.

The other tries to stop him but he easily breaks the grip, turning to land a punch into their gut before bringing their head down onto his knee. Knocked out cold before they could even comprehend what was happening.

Osmodious’s growl turns to screams of rage, face twisting into an ugly snarl as he lashes forward. "Don’t just stand there! Kill them!”

Abandon doesn’t bother to look behind at his companions. He can take a guess at who is standing and who is not. No more than three at most. Three left to face off against a dozen while he stands in the middle of this chaos with the supposed big bad himself.

 _We’re all really going to die here_.

Osmodious swipes forward again in his rage. Slashing haphazardly to make any kind of connection with the Tiefling. Only for Abandon to easily dodge and dance around him.

It’s a familiar rhythm from years of training. Years of fighting. He can already tell that Osmodious doesn’t know this particular dance very well. Slashing wildly with no skill or plan. A wizard using a knife against a person who has been trained to fight. It took years of practice, years of patience.

 _A monk should know best when and where to strike._ Words imprinted in his head from a master long dead.

 _There._ A chance opening made as Osmodious flings his arm back with the knife. Not expecting a solid fist to land a blow to his ribs with such force. Followed by a twist of his hand, the knife knocked harshly out of his grasp and another blow cracks into his nose. He retreats backwards, hands flying to his bloodied nose as Abandon resets into a defensive stance.

Osmodious stares at him with wide eyes. Trying to understand what exactly is happening. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “You’re supposed to be a sorcerer.”

“Never really liked magic.” Abandon shrugs like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. His gift had wanted to control him since the beginning. Wanted to grow more powerful. So he did the biggest fuck you to the universe he could think of. _He ignored it._

It had been hard at first. His magic acting out in unpredictable ways. Ultimately he had to compromise, using it for small things while focusing his time and energy on learning to fight. An effort that’s so far proved best to his advantage.

Osmodious breathes deeply through his teeth, “You can’t stop what’s already begun.” His hands shake as a dark energy builds around them like vipers ready to strike.

“Ha! Yes, I can. I do it all the time.” His laughter almost feels like it’s echoing. Reverberating against the rain that threatens to swallow them all into its cold embrace. It brings with it a creeping sense of dread.

Something feels wrong. And he’s not yet sure what.

He takes the offensive, dodging the energy that blasts towards him with a jump and a kick aimed at the man’s face. Too slow to hit, but fast enough for his tail to strike out and lash against Osmodious’s torso. Sending the man farther back towards the tear that crackles with unused energy.

It bathes Osmodious in red light; his form becoming something more inhuman by the second.

The dread is working its way through his system. Strangling the breath from his throat, arms shaking despite being steady only seconds ago. The screams behind him becoming impossible to ignore.

This has to end.

_And only he can end it._

He stares at Osmodious and the tear behind him. The red shifting haphazardly, showing no destination in its depths. It won’t lead to where either of them want it to go.

That’s fine with him.

There are no names to remember here anyway.

He runs forward, ignoring the pain that shoots through him as Osmodious magic claws against any form of touch.

 _It can’t stop the inevitable though_.

As the two figures tumble back into the tear.

Vanishing in a burst of light that is soon washed away.


End file.
